


When the Fires Are Consuming You

by lostinparallel



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Achievement Hunter Heists, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Grand Theft Auto Setting, Aquaphobia Trigger, Fake AH Crew, M/M, Murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-30
Updated: 2015-01-30
Packaged: 2018-03-09 17:45:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3258710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostinparallel/pseuds/lostinparallel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray and Ryan have to flee from the LSPD when a bank heist goes wrong. Luckily, they brought an RPG to a helicopter fight.</p><p>When the fires, when the fires have surrounded you / With the hounds of hell comin’ after you / I’ve got blood, I’ve got blood on my name</p>
            </blockquote>





	When the Fires Are Consuming You

The air is dry and sweltering. Harsh rays of sunlight beat down on the cracked concrete roof of the bank, breaking through the thin wisps of clouds that trail through the bleak sky.

A river of traffic flows below them. The mellow hum of cars and motorbikes drifts through the stillness.

Ray sticks to the shadows, his pink combat pistol raised, and crouches low to the ground. Ryan follows suit. A dark blue duffle bag is slung across his back and he clutches a bullpup rifle tightly in his large hands.

They come to a halt at a small steel box. Sunshine glints across the metal and Ray has to squint to look at it.

Ryan draws out a crowbar from the duffle bag and pries the box open. A mass of wires and cables are tucked securely inside. He inspects the wiring with careful calculation, his cold, blue eyes judging and studying from behind the slits in his skull mask.

Ray watches him work, fascinated. Not even thirty seconds passes before Ryan expertly cuts a selection of wires and tosses the pliers haphazardly onto the ground. He rises to his feet and paces towards Ray, gravel crunching beneath his heavy combat boots.

“You ready?” Ryan asks, his voice muffled slightly by his mask.

Ray nods firmly, loading another round of ammunition into his pistol before cocking the weapon. Sweat clings to his skin. He wipes his brow with the back of his hand, slowly exhaling a lungful of hot air.

Ray’s earpiece drones metallically as Geoff’s voice rasps over the radio.

“Alpha Team has entered the building.”

“Bravo Team, on the roof,” Ryan responds.

“Charlie Team are in position—”

Gavin interrupts Jack excitedly, “—Lads, gents... the heist is on.”

A sudden surge of adrenaline rushes through Ray’s veins and something in his chest tightens. He makes a beeline for the hatch door buried in the centre of the roof and rigs it with C-4, targeting the weakest points in the metal.

“You might wanna stand back a little,” he warns.

Ray can practically _feel_ Ryan raising his eyebrows, but Ryan nods and takes a few steps back out of courtesy.

A small explosion bursts through the quiet, showering the rooftop with debris. When the dust settles, Ryan throws the hatch door off its hinges and climbs inside, dropping down onto the floor below.

Ray follows closely behind him.

“We’re in.”

There’s a moment of tense quiet before an eruption of gunfire rattles over the radio. Ray flinches a little at the sudden noise, grimacing as Geoff’s and Michael’s yelling rings in his ears.

“ _EVERYBODY DOWN ON THE GROUND!_ ”

“ _NOBODY FUCKING MOVE!_ ”

Ray races across the landing and clambers up a flight of metal stairs, taking the steps two at a time. Ryan is already ahead of him, unpacking a large drill from his duffle bag and pressing it against the cold metal of the bank vault door.

Gunfire and screaming echoes through the building, and Ray grips his pistol a little tighter. The noise grounds him, forcing him to move faster and think quicker. Footsteps thunder above him as guards scramble over themselves to deal with Geoff and Michael, who are currently shooting up the bank lobby.

Gavin’s voice sounds over the radio, “Alright, lads, I’m in. Security cameras are under my control... Bloody hell, Alpha Team makes for a good distraction.”

Ryan chuckles, a deep and sinister sound, but it brings a smile to Ray’s lips. Ryan flips the switch on the drill and a high-pitched, whirring noise fills the dingy room as he pulls down on the lever. The drill bit pierces the metal, slowly breaking through the vault door.

“Fuck – this thing is slow,” he grunts, “Bravo Two, watch my back.”

“On it,” says Ray. He peers out into the corridor, aiming down his pistol sight and scanning the empty passage.

There’s a faint buzzing and the lights begin to flicker. Explosions of bullets drown out the approaching footsteps, growing louder and nearer.

“What the hell is going on out there?” asks Ryan.

“Fuck if I know,” says Ray, “Gavin – what’s happening?”

“...Hard to tell. There’s too much interference and – _bollocks._ ”

An alarm bell shrieks over the carnage, screaming through the corridors and ringing loudly in Ray’s ears. The room goes completely dark and Ray feels his heart leap into his throat. The drill keeps going, wailing mechanically, and when the lights return, they fill the building with a red glow.

Michael’s voice joins the fray, “What did you _do?_ ”

“I didn’t do anything!” says Gavin defensively.

Jack shushes both of them, “The LSPD’s been notified. They’ll be here in less than five – grab the money and get out of there.” The static on his end makes his words sound broken and disjointed.

“ _Vault’s open!_ ” Ryan barks.

Ray staggers back to Ryan as he pulls the huge door open, muscles flexing beneath his black leather jacket.

The vault is littered with green. Stacks of safety deposit boxes line the walls and bundles of cash lie on top of large metal crates.

Ray gapes at the enormous pile of money, “Holy shit, I’m gonna cry... I’ll never have to pay for McDonalds again.”

“That’s ambitious, Ray,” says Michael; his chipper voice is heavy with sarcasm.

“Well, bag the lot and run or you’ll get blown to bits,” Gavin squawks.

Ryan unzips his duffle bag and begins sweeping armfuls of cash into it, ignoring the hundred dollar bills that slide off the crate and land at his feet. Ray watches the door, a mixture of anxiety and glee swirling in his gut.

He can hear police sirens blaring in the distance, wailing over the alarm bells. Tyres screech to a halt outside the window and Ray decides that they’ve outstayed their welcome. He turns and grabs Ryan by the arm, tugging him out of the vault and back through the door.

Red light swallows the corridors. Ray can feel his eyes watering as his legs carry him down the narrow hallway.

After jumping down the metal stairs, the two of them manage to scramble onto the roof before SWAT teams flood the bank.

Ryan watches Ray’s six as he runs over to the building’s edge, where a zip-line launcher lies discarded on the ground. Ray is in the process of aiming it at the roof of a convenience store when he spots a platoon of police cars parked in the street below.

A bullet zips past his head, practically grazing his hairline, and the police officers all turn to stare at him.

“Oh... _fuck me._ ”

Ryan hauls Ray away from the edge as a second bullet whizzes past his arm. He pulls roughly on Ray’s hand and they sprint across the rooftop, ducking and weaving as the cops unload a wave of lead above them.

Ray barely has time to register his feet leaving the ground as Ryan launches them into the air. A surprised, embarrassingly shrill scream passes his lips and they vault onto the adjacent building.

Ray’s feet connect with the concrete and the rest of his body soon follows, knees jarring and hands scraping against the coarse stone. Ray can taste blood. The tangy copper stench fills his nose and he swallows down the bile rising in his throat.

Ryan lifts him off the ground, not even allowing him to catch his breath, and all but carries him to the other side of the rooftop. Gripping the metal rungs, Ray climbs down a rickety ladder. Flakes of rust crumble beneath his fingertips.

They drop down into a grimy alleyway. The air stinks of piss and vomit, but it’s definitely better than being shot at. Graffiti stains the dirty brick walls and litter skitters around Ray’s feet, stirred by a gust of wind.

A police siren cries out in the dark, loud and grating, and suddenly Ray is being shoved hard. He wheezes as his back collides with something solid, knocking the air out of his lungs.

Ryan’s eyes are barely visible in the shadows. His dark irises bore into Ray’s eyes as he presses their chests flush against each other. The air between them is electrifying. Warm breath dances across Ray’s skin, leaving goose pimples in its wake, and firm hands pin him to the wall.

Ryan’s mask is lifted slightly, his lips parted and barely an inch from Ray’s mouth. Ray feels a knot form in his throat and a light, tingling sensation flutters in his stomach.

The siren is louder now, unbelievably so, and a police car whirls past the alleyway. Ryan pulls away.

He steps back into the light, slipping the skull mask off his head entirely to reveal the menacing, black paint covering his skin. His long hair hangs down to his shoulder in a loose ponytail.

Ray’s head spins from the sudden loss of contact, but he gathers himself and follows Ryan out of the alleyway.

He manages to enjoy a brief second of calm before Gavin’s panicked squeaking is babbling in his earpiece again. He’d almost forgotten that the others were listening.

“Guys! Are you alright? I’ve lost visuals... Where are you? Alpha Team is in the clear but –”

“We’re fine, Charlie Two,” Ryan drawls.

Gavin lets out a sigh of relief.

Thankfully, Jack is far more composed, “Alpha Team is heading back to base once they shake off the cops. I suggest you two do the same. Call us when you’re ready and we’ll meet you for extraction.”

“Copy that,” says Ryan.

Summer brings Los Santos to life. The city is bustling with people; cars fill the roads and pedestrians flood the sidewalk. The small cafés lining the street are packed and the lunch crowd spills out to sit at quaint outdoor tables, enjoying the gentle afternoon breeze.

A man pulls up to the curb on a Dinka Akuma. The bike has a black and red paint job and the engine purrs softly as he releases the clutch. He must be in his early twenties – no combat training, not at all a threat.

Ray watches as Ryan advances on him, striding confidently with a falsely pleasant smile plastered to his face.

The man politely returns his smile, “Hey, dude. You need help with any—”

He startles when Ryan pulls out his rifle. His eyes are wide, pupils blown out with fear, as he scrambles off his motorbike. Ryan grabs him by the throat and hurls him onto the tarmac before he can escape.

The man begs for mercy but Ryan ignores him. He aims, pulls the trigger and unloads a round of bullets straight into his skull.

Blood smears the roadside. Screams fill the air as people flee from the streets, scurrying away from the ravaged corpse strewn across the ground.

Ryan lets out a callous laugh and Ray feels a chill run down his spine.

“Enjoy your lunch,” Ryan smirks.

He then hoists the money-filled duffle bag further up his shoulder and ushers Ray onto the dead man’s motorbike. Ray revs the engine and Ryan takes a seat behind him, causing the bike to sag under his weight. They speed away from the sidewalk, screeching out onto the main road.

“Bravo Team is on the move. Where’s extraction?” says Ray, his voice straining as he focuses on driving. They dart in and out of traffic, tearing around corners.

“Big Creek Bridge is only a couple blocks away. You make it there undetected and you should be home free,” says Jack.

“ _Undetected?_ You didn’t see the fuckton of PoPo firing at us on the roof? That’s not happening,” Ray argues.

Jack sighs, “Just – get to the bridge and we’ll figure it out from there.”

“Improvising... Nice,” says Ryan dryly.

Ray takes a hard left, jolting the bike sideways and cutting across an intersection. There’s a loud shrieking of tyres skidding to a halt, followed by an earsplitting explosion. A wave of hot air washes over Ray’s skin as a semi-convertible smashes into the side of a truck. The truck bursts into flames and Ray whips his head around to glance at the fiery carnage.

The police are onto them in an instant, sirens howling and engines roaring. Ryan attempts to fire at the cop cars, angling his body away from Ray, but they’re moving too fast and most of his bullets miss their mark.

Jack raises his voice over the chaos, “Bravo Team, you’ve got three police choppers inbound. Police cars are still tailing your six.”

“ _Fuck!_ Why’s the getaway vehicle always a bike?” Ray snaps. He increases the throttle and they tear through traffic, rounding sports cars and lorries and fucking _idiots_ on Faggios until they reach the Big Creek Bridge.

Wind rushes through Ray’s hair, lashing at his face until his skin is raw. It helps to clear his head, and his erratic heartbeat steadies a little when he catches a glimpse of the ocean. Sunlight shimmers across the crystal blue water and the sky is a pale backdrop of grey.

Strong arms snake around Ray’s torso, heavy palms coming to rest on top of his knuckles. Ray leans into the touch, pressing his back against Ryan’s broad chest.

Ryan’s deep voice resonates in Ray’s ears, sending shivers rippling through his body.

“I brought an RPG.”

Ray feels heat rising in his cheeks, and it’s _fucking ridiculous_ how easily riled up he is when they’re being gunned down by armed police officers.

“G-great,” he stammers.

“...Use it.”

Ray slides his hands out from underneath Ryan’s, allowing Ryan to grip the handlebars of the motorbike. He twists slowly, clutching onto Ryan’s forearms for balance as he turns around on the seat.

Ray wraps his legs around Ryan’s middle and settles back against the bike frame. He then reaches over Ryan’s shoulder and unbuckles the rocket-propelled grenade launcher from where it’s strapped to his back.

The weapon feels heavy in Ray’s hands. He inhales deeply, resting the breech on his shoulder and angling the gun upwards to look down the sight.

Ray aims at the closest police chopper and pulls down on the rigid trigger. The grenade shoots out of the barrel with a deafening _boom,_ leaving behind a cloud of black smoke. It rockets into the helicopter, smashing through the windscreen and detonating into a tremendous fireball.

Flames and smoke engulf the police chopper, and Ray lets out a triumphant whoop. He locks eyes with Ryan, feeling his heartbeat quicken as Ryan’s mouth stretches into a brilliant smile. Ray grins back proudly.

Two more police choppers advance on them. Ray doesn’t hesitate, shooting the first one out of the sky the moment it begins to descend. The chopper spins out of control, spiralling into the second one and plummeting to the ground in a fiery explosion.

They continue to race down the bridge, zigzagging through traffic and blowing up helicopters until Ray uses the last grenade on a triad of police cars.

Blood pounds in his ears. He gazes out over Ryan’s shoulder, but the smokescreen consuming the road behind them makes it impossible to see.

“Charlie Team, is there anything tailing us? I can’t see shit,” says Ray.

Jack’s voice buzzes over the radio, “We’ve lost visual. Smoke’s blinding us up here... I’m sorry, I can’t help you.”

Ryan’s expression is stony. A frown tugs at his lips, etching deep lines into his forehead.

The end of the bridge swims into view, leading out onto a wide road that runs alongside a jagged rock face. The grass-covered mountain piles upwards, its peak brushing against the dark strips of clouds painting the sky.

Smoke shifts behind them. The grey smog parts when a mangled police car drags itself down the beaten track. Cops peer out of the car’s smashed windows, pistols aimed at the stolen motorbike. Several gunshots ring out.

Instinctively, Ray shrinks himself, arms drawing to his chest and ducking his head. The motorbike veers to the side, and when Ray clasps onto Ryan’s back to steady himself, he feels warm liquid seeping onto his hand.

“Bravo One is hit! Get us the fuck out of here!” Ray’s cry is met by a rumble of chaos from the other end. Had the police spotted Jack and Gavin’s surveillance chopper? Were they all that’s left of the crew?

The onslaught of questions is silenced when an engine booms ahead of them.

A black SUV hurtles down the interstate, tinted windows rolled down and guns blazing. There’s a rapid hail of bullets, punctuated by the hiss of air rushing out of the motorbike’s tyres and the shrill scream of metal scraping against tarmac.

They swerve out of control, Ray clinging desperately to Ryan’s chest as Ryan tries to steer them to safety. The front wheel hits the railing and they flip, tumbling over the edge and into the sea below.

Wind whips past Ray’s face. His body twists and convulses as he falls, a scream clawing desperately at his throat. The water swallows him whole, crushing against his ears and ensnaring his limbs. He struggles, legs kicking out and arms flailing in an attempt to stop the pressure building in his chest.

There is nothing but darkness surrounding him, consuming him.

Ray’s lungs burn, muscles screaming in agony as icy water floods his airways. Dark spots begin to appear in his vision. His head falls back, a stream of bubbles rising from his lips, and he catches a glimpse of the surface shimmering above him.

It doesn’t seem far – close enough that if he just... _reached._

Hands tear through the thick water. Ray scrambles to the surface, fingers stretched and holding onto the hope that someone will pull him out.

His head eventually breaks through the waves and Ray feels his muscles go slack. His bullet proof vest gives him enough buoyancy to stay afloat and he stares out into the vast sea, bobbing in the water.

He gasps for air, chest heaving and bleary eyes scanning the blue emptiness.

“Ryan...?"

 His mouth dips into the water and he sputters.

“ _Ryan!_ ”

A distinct, black leather jacket floats on the surface a few metres ahead of him. Ray’s heart misses a beat. His earpiece is screeching static in his ear so he rips it out before shedding his hoodie, weapons and spare ammunition. He feels no remorse as the watches them sink to the ocean’s depths.

Ray paddles over to Ryan’s jacket, scooping it up in his arms before diving below the surface. He searches blindly in the darkness, swimming deeper and deeper, when his hand connects with something solid. He pulls the mass towards his chest and kicks off, clawing back to the surface.

As Ray rises above the waves, he greedily sucks in a deep lungful of breath. Ryan lies still in his arms but Ray can feel his heart beating steadily against his palm. He drags Ryan’s heavy body to shore, kicking and heaving until his bones ache and his muscles tear.

Ray crawls onto the wet sand, relishing the feeling of something solid beneath his hands. He pulls Ryan with him and they collapse in a heap together.

They lay there for a moment. The soft quiet is broken by the sound of waves lapping against the shore and Ray’s laboured breathing. His fingers dig into the sand and a hollow feeling resonates in his chest.

The silence lingers on for too long and Ray feels himself drowning in it. He looks over to Ryan, taking in his closed eyes and pale skin and still chest, and his heart gives a painful lurch.

Panic grips him. He bolts upright, clambering over to Ryan and hovering close to his lips.

“...Not breathing,” he murmurs.

Ray grabs fistfuls of Ryan’s drenched shirt and shakes him. He doesn’t wake.

“C’mon... Don’t do this.”

Ray places his hands on top of Ryan’s chest, interlocking his fingers. He presses down hard and drives the heel of his hand into Ryan’s breastbone in a steady rhythm. _Nothing._

“Breathe – _damn it..._ Ryan...”

Ray pauses. He hastily leans over and presses a hard kiss to Ryan’s lips. Stubble scratches his chin as he blows air into Ryan’s mouth, and Ray feels tears stinging behind his eyes. He pulls away.

“Come _on, Ryan!_ Wake up!”

Ray’s voice is hoarse from yelling and his hands hurt as they press down against Ryan’s chest.

“Don’t – fucking – do this... Don’t leave me.”

Seconds drag by. Ray leans back on his haunches, carding a hand through his damp hair and placing his head in his hands.

A low wheeze splits the silence and Ray feels something shift against his leg. He glances up, and Ryan’s eyes are wide open. He chokes and splutters, coughing out blood and seawater. Ray is by his side in an instant, hands gently cupping Ryan’s face and guiding his frantic gaze towards his own.

“Hey – hey you’re okay... We made it.”

Ryan’s eyes are the wildest shade of blue and Ray can feel himself getting lost in it.

“...The m-money...?” Ryan croaks.

“It’s fine. I got it,” says Ray.

The reality of where they are and what they've done hits him like a punch in the gut. Ray draws his hands away from Ryan’s face. No doubt, police are swarming the bridge. They’ll probably start searching the sea for their bodies soon.

The sand around Ryan’s body is moist. Blood soaks through the golden-brown material.

“...You’re bleeding,” Ray starts, panic seeping into his voice.

“I’m bleeding,” says Ryan plainly.

“You didn’t wear your body armour. _Idiot!_ ”

“What – what’s the worst that could happen?”

“ _Are you kidding me?_ You got shot!”

Ryan looks a little taken aback by Ray’s sudden anger, “I’m fine.”

“...You’re not invincible, Ryan.”

Ryan’s face softens, his eyes flickering away from Ray’s scornful gaze.

“Look, I’m sorry... I’m okay.”

The sky is beginning to darken. Streaks of dark blue creep along the light grey canvas. A chilling breeze ruffles the tendrils of Ray’s hair and his muscles clench tightly against the cold.

Ryan hauls himself upright, failing to hide the pain contorting his face as he staggers to his feet. Ray helps him to stand and Ryan manages to spare enough pride to lean against his side.

Ray hoists the waterlogged duffle bag off the sand and slings it across his shoulder. He heaves Ryan’s arm to rest on his shoulder and wraps a hand around Ryan’s waist.

“I hate you,” Ray grumbles.

Ryan barely misses a beat.

“You love me.” It’s almost an accusation.

“...Same thing.”

**Author's Note:**

> [continues writing ficlet instead of working on anything important]
> 
> this fic was inspired by this song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xz5Mx3a8kRw


End file.
